


i'm the type who won't get oh so critical

by couldaughter



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boys Kissing, M/M, POV Character of Color, Queer Character, Trans Character, he spends the rest of the time backstage laughing at combeferre, well i mean courf is in it for like three seconds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/couldaughter/pseuds/couldaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre and Marius resolve their differences through german conversation (and cuddling.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm the type who won't get oh so critical

Combeferre sighed loudly, rubbing at his forehead. The fading lamplight was playing hell with his eyesight, and he could feel a headache looming ominously on the horizon. He looked at the teetering pile of documents, looked once more at the candle stubs on the desk, and started to pack up his things.

He’d been planning to drop in on Courfeyrac’s roommate anyway. Les Amis didn’t charge its members, but if Marius planned to become a more regular visitor to the group, Combeferre thought he might as well check in with him. Even if he was a Bonapartist, he was still young and might be open to change.

The route to Marius’ rooms took Combeferre through some more unfamiliar parts of the city, broken windows sinister in the shadows and a general air of disrepair filling the streets. The Gorbeau house, when he reached it, was small and had the appearance of a bad house fallen on worse times. Although, Combeferre reminded himself, now was not the time to write a speech on shameful living conditions in their own fair city, he could still feel anger starting to rise in his chest. He knocked a little too sharply on the door, and felt better.

“Good evening,” Combeferre began on seeing the landlady open the door. “I was wondering whether Marius Pontmercy was available.” He considered, fleetingly, asking for Le Baron but decided against it. The landlady was likely not a royalist sympathiser.

She seemed surprised to see a visitor for Marius, a fact which Combeferre observed then quietly tucked away for future analysis, and then beckoned him into the hallway.

“He’s cold, he is,” she said with an annoyed tone. “Doesn’t have many friends whichever way you look at it, and up all night with his books all week. Barely covers his rent, as well.”

Combeferre nodded, a worry starting to form in his mind. “Could I just go and see if he’s in? I’ll try not to disturb you, ma’am.” He smiled, although there wasn’t much feeling behind it. Worry was warring with the already developing headache to form something really quite painful.

“If you insist, but if he turns you out like an old pair of boots you’ll know I was right.” She shuffled off to her rooms, still grumbling.

Combeferre, now undeniably worried and also undeniably afflicted by a headache, slowly ascended the creaking stairs to Marius’ room. The door, at least, kept standing under the strain of his knocking.

Marius opened the door, and immediately shut it. His face, in the split second Combeferre had been able to see it, had seemed sad. That, he found, was intolerable. The door did not open to his knocking on a second try, nor a third, so he changed tactics.

“Marius, I don’t wish to intrude, but I was wondering whether we could discuss some issues from the meeting yesterday.” He heard the sound of Marius breathing quickly on the other side of the door. He was clearly leaning his weight on it. “Of course, if I should return another time-”

“No!” The sudden noise startled Combeferre slightly. “I mean, ah, I only mean that you should, you should certainly come in. Only give me a moment to clear some things from the chairs.”

Marius sounded tense, but it was encouraging that he would let Combeferre in at all. He did regret being so hard on Marius and apologising seemed a sensible first step.

The door creaked open by slow degrees, revealing Marius and his room. The chairs were clear, as was the bed, and the floor. A rickety desk was piled with dictionaries.

“Do come in,” said Marius, hesitating as he reached for Combeferre’s hand. “I apologise for the condition, but I am a little short on money.” He laughed, but there was no real light to it.

Combeferre sat on the more threadbare of the two chairs. “It’s no trouble. I myself lived in a similar room in another part of the city a few years ago.”

“Oh, really?” asked Marius, seeming to perk up a little.

“Certainly. Although I confess I had more candles.” This was clearly the wrong thing to say, as Marius shrunk back again. “I did have a little income from my parents at the time, of course. Our situations are not comparable in that area.”

Marius frowned. Combeferre thought it a shame, really, that such a handsome face should be marred by such a serious expression. Then he shook himself slightly, and turned to face Marius properly. “I see you have a number of dictionaries – are you a translator?”

“Yes, I am.” Marius’ voice was unusually soft, very different from his early confidence at the Musain. “I had need of some income to support myself, so I learnt English, and German. It pays as well as I need.”

Combeferre smiled. There was nothing fake about it. “German! Ah, I learnt German myself in school. I’ve always wished I could practice it more.”

“Well, if you did ever want to, I know a few people who-“

“Oh, I’m sure a few hours of your company every so often wouldn’t be too detrimental to my health. My medical studies have leant me that much insight, at least.”

Marius smiled weakly, and his face seemed transformed. Combeferre was struck once more by his looks. “If you insist, I am sure something could be arranged.”

“Since we are in agreement, perhaps we could start with this evening? The night is still young, after all, and we have a few hours before darkness completely consumes Paris.”

Combeferre took Marius’ smile as an answer, and moved his chair a little closer to him. It would help with the necessity to lower their voices when Ma’am Bougon locked the doors. They managed to speak until the moon was full in the sky before either of them realised how late it had become.

Combeferre smiled. “It seems that our conversation has moved us into the night. I should depart, I think.”

“Oh, you don’t have to.” Marius seemed shocked at his own invitation, and Combeferre was suddenly intensely aware of the single bed in the corner. They were both flushed. “No! I don’t mean it that way, I mean; it wouldn’t be a problem if- if you stayed. I have rather enjoyed our conversation. I must confess, my first impression of you was, um, somewhat incorrect on assessment.”

“Then thank goodness for second chances, Marius. I will stay, in any case. It’s a long walk to my rooms from here, and there are treacherous people about at this hour.”

Combeferre, in a fit of camaraderie, removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. It was, for him, a more usual gesture when with friends, and Marius seemed scandalised. The blush which had started to recede came back in full force, although he did also remove his jacket. His shirtsleeves, with ragged cuffs, remained resolutely unrolled.

They spent a few minutes sat in a companionable silence before the realisation they would have to sleep at some point hit them. The change in Marius’ face was quite remarkable to Combeferre, who also found it strangely charming. He could see why Courfeyrac had grown so attached to him.

“As you are the guest,” Marius said carefully. “I think it would be most polite to cede the bed to you for tonight. I will sleep on the floor.”

Combeferre frowned, and then winced. The headache, which had been languishing once more, returned at full force. “I am not sure of the situation on the floor, not having lain on it, but it does not look comfortable. There is room enough on the bed for both of us, if you would be amenable?”

Marius looked thoughtful for a moment, his eyes flickering between Combeferre, the bed, and the floor with its hard wood floorboards. He nodded slowly. “The night has fallen fast, and we do both need some rest.”

Combeferre sat on the bed and beckoned Marius to join him. Although thin, the mattress was not unbearable. The only issue, which became apparent soon after the two men had sat down, was the creeping cold which had come into the room. They were both shivering in silence, until Combeferre resolved himself. Shifting slightly closer to his newfound friend, he touched Marius’ arm.

“It is growing cold, Marius. Oughtn’t we to sleep, before we turn to rather fascinating icicles for the landlady to find in the morning? I would quite like to live a life free of cruel awakenings by ice knife.”

“We should,” Marius allowed. “It may be necessary to remain closer than could be comfortable for you, in which case you are of course free to leave.” The pitch of his voice rose steadily to almost a squeak.

Combeferre sent a silent prayer to whichever deity might hear it, and cautiously wrapped an arm around Marius’ shoulder. He was thinner than Combeferre had expected, although at least his earlier tension seemed mostly dissipated. He could feel bandages shifting beneath Marius’ shirt, another detail he could contemplate in the morning.

Marius leant his head onto Combeferre’s shoulder, and closed his eyes. Combeferre nudged. “Although I am in favour of this development, perhaps we could actually lay down before you give yourself to Morpheus?”

“Oh, of course, yes, just let me…” he trailed off, realising he would have to remove more of his clothing. Combeferre stood and turned towards the corner.

“Now you are afforded a little privacy. I do not have nightclothes with me, so I shall elect to remain in shirt and trousers, and you may do as you would on any other night.”

Marius blushed. “Perhaps not like every other night, anyway.” When he turned back towards the bed, Marius was in his shirt and trousers, much like Combeferre. He went to blow out the candles, and the room was plunged into near blackness. Combeferre’s head was soothed a little by the dark.

They both lay under the covers, carefully separate, with Combeferre closer to the wall. After a few minutes of heavy silence, Combeferre sighed and rolled over to look at Marius. “I think we may have to move closer, Marius. Although only if you are comfortable with such presumption.”

Marius remained bright red, but did shuffle sideways into Combeferre’s chest. Combeferre automatically wrapped his arms around Marius’ shoulders, and found he was too tired to care much. He stifled a yawn.

Silence reigned once again, but it was a more companionable silence.

“Combeferre,” said Marius quietly. “Why are you doing this?”

Combeferre smiled. “I did mention - these streets are treacherous at night, particularly for someone with my, well, outstanding traits.” He cast a glance at the dark skin revealed by the rolled up cuff of his shirt.

Marius rolled onto his side and started intently at Combeferre’s face. He seemed to be trying to learn every crease and line, which must have been difficult in the near pitch black of the room. At length, he spoke. “I’m sure you mean well, Combeferre, but I don’t require the pity of someone who could barely stand me only a few days ago.”

Combeferre flinched. Admittedly, that had been his initial reasoning for coming, but it had seemed flimsier and flimsier in face of all that friendship with Marius could offer. His heart fluttered in his chest.

“Well,” he began, feeling somewhat unsettled. His pulse was beating loud in his ears. “I suppose I now have- ulterior motives. For staying.”

Marius smiled and it seemed to Combeferre that the room became a little brighter. He shook himself – clearly the headache had impaired his senses. “And what those might be, Combeferre?”

“I am fond of your company. I should desire more of it, perhaps more than would be strictly wise.” Combeferre winced at his directness – Marius spooked very easily.

True to form, Marius had shrunk back slightly, although their faces were still very close together. Almost close enough to- Combeferre shut that thought firmly away. Then pulled it back for serious consideration because, after all, it wasn’t illegal, and he had heard some intimation from Courfeyrac with regard to Marius’ preferences.

Combeferre placed a comforting hand on Marius’ shoulder. He tensed, but did not back away, which Combeferre thought was promising. “I do not intend to force you into anything, Marius. But I do believe that you are a much wiser person than I had thought, and there is a certain aspect to you that I find… endearing.”

Marius flushed crimson, but inched a little closer to Combeferre. Their noses were almost touching. “I find you to be, well, perhaps intimidating but not repellent.” Marius stumbled a little over his words. “In fact, I might go so far as to say that you are, um, endearing to me as well.”

Combeferre smiled. They were close enough that he entertained the idea of Marius being able to feel the bright curvature of his lips, and then, abruptly, he closed the last of the gap between them.

Marius stiffened slightly, and then melted, lips soft and pliant. This time, it was Combeferre who could feel them smile.

(Combeferre is absent from his classes the next morning. Luckily, the tutor is less observant, and Courfeyrac an excellent mimic.)

**Author's Note:**

> so i wrote this for my dear friend katy (tumblr user enjlras) who is on a crusade to popularise combeferre/marius. i confess she's won me over slightly (although not so much for me to abandon my beloved jehan/combeferre, which i will write more of at some point.)
> 
> (the title is, of course, from 'closer' by tegan and sara.)


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